Page 46 of The Sun God's Prize
The man is delusional.I splutter, the audacity so utterly ridiculous that I’m unable to speak or protest outside of staring with my eyes widening, my mouth hanging open, and my ability to kill him lost to the shock that rolls through me.
Oh, dear, the dragon whispers.
That helps, surprisingly, and I inhale as I return to myself, my hands clenching at my sides, his life about to end.And to the fire with the consequences.
“It would be a shame,” Yiratille says so casually that she catches my attention and saves her Sun God’s life for the time being, “to have to kill you, Princess Remalla, over such an unfortunate comedy of errors.”She sighs, as equally deluded as her ruler.Like what I just endured was inconsequential, a simple mistake now corrected, and not the gut-wrenching, soul-crushing experience it was.“Your fate was decided, as is required of a princess of the Overkingdom, by your ruler, Gyster.I suggest you obey his command to make yourself prostrate and supplicant to your new lord and master, the Most Holy Sun God Glae Isthisahaloun, Tenth Rising of the Lord of All that Rises.”
And now I know exactly who was behind my kidnapping.Not the dragon.
“Hallick,” I whisper.“I’m going to find you and cut you a new asshole.”Right after I—
If you fight, the dragon says in a weary voice,you’ll die.
I’m ready to do just that.I willnotsubmit, I choke, even in my head, while the man who thinks he’s a god observes me without a trace of concern on his face.
I know, she says.But we need you, Flame, alive.Please, endure.We will find a way to finish this before it’s too late.She fades again.I hope.
Escape it is, then.
“I dare you to try and touch me,” I say, quiet enough that only the Sun God hears me.And let him see just what I think of the idea.
Have I finally reached him?Penetrated that obliviousness that seems to consume him?There’s a new trace of concern in his eyes, and he retreats from me, in short, hesitant and jerking movements, like he’s unused to such treatment, unsure of what to do with me.When he sits again, he’s visibly bemused, rather than angry, and waves one hand.
The warrior in black resheathes her dirk, and stands down.
“Take my prize to quarters to await my bidding,” he says.
Someone is going to die tonight.And yes, it just might be me after all.But I’m taking a whole lot of others with me when I go.
But not until I get my swords back.The sight of bows and arrows in the hands of guards who line the room also gives me pause.My mother’s death is suddenly fresh in my mind again, and while it was the way she chose to go, I will not fall like she did in a futile battle when I might find another way to exit this truly ridiculous farce.
It would be funny, absurd, if I weren’t so angry.
I’m taken to a set of quarters far more extravagant than the ones I’ve been living in and even more so than the ones in the princess wing in the Citadel, the wide-open walls draped with gossamer curtains that waver in the breeze, heady scents of lush flowers filling the giant bedroom, centered by a massive, raised bed platform filled with pillows covering the thick mattress.The large, carved door is locked behind me, the black-clad warrior staring at me for a long moment before she disappears behind the thud and sound of it being locked.No doubt it’s also guarded, and when I pad to the window, more guards—the Sun God’s gold-clad ones, not her order’s sort, at least—line the walls of the garden, stiff and formal and watchful.I will have no privacy, then.I could leap up onto the rooftops and escape that way, but they bear bows, and I’m in no mood to dodge arrows as I flee from an unfamiliar place.
If I’m to have any chance of escape, at least I only have his ordinary guards to fight.If he chooses to send Brem’s former order in numbers, there will be no way out.So, I will take my bearings first, give him no reason to switch out those fighters, and the fire protect the Sun God if he decides to come visit me tonight.
He willnotsurvive the encounter.
At least there’s another pool here, and another room filled with clothing of floating silks and gold-cut fabrics, cosmetics and perfumes awaiting my pleasure.A tray of the sticky fruits I first encountered with the slavemasterreVunoshe waits on a tray next to two pitchers, one holding water and the other a spicy scented alcohol I ignore, both slick with condensation.
I pace the room several times, checking exits, looking for ways out of this new cage I’ve found myself in, and finally sit on the bed, scowling at the door.
I have to choose.Either I stay and wait for my chance to escape, or I take a chance and go now, steal weapons on the way, dodge their archers, find the dragon who has led me to this mess that my life has become.
The weariness hits me like a blow, and I fall back into the cushions, but I will not weep.I’m done with crying, embracing my rage instead, letting it simmer and fuel me.All while I scream into the nothing in my head that used to house the kinspark.
ATLAS!ZENTHRIS!
And the kinspark… flickers.
I sit upright, throwing my entire being into them, into reaching them.But they are so far away, the flicker fading as fast as it rose, and now I am sobbing, but out of rage and frustration, punching the pillows so hard that I burst one into a flight of feathers, the soft result floating around me in a slow, drifting cascade as they settle.
I’m sorry, the dragon whispers.
I can’t do this anymore, I tell her, covering my face in my hands.I’m done.
Remalla, she says.She’s never used my name before.The sound of it is full of her own grief.
